"For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39
Our text today tells us, “Nothing can separate us from the love of God.” Like all of God’s promises, this one has to be believed to help us. Especially when we are looking at a little coffin.
This is not an easy day. No one will stand up today to talk about all the laughter and great experiences we had with Casey. There is no eulogy describing his long years of devoted commitment to family and service. No celebration of great achievements. That is because we are giving Casey back to God after only three short weeks.
Giving? No, maybe even that is saying too much. Today we are mourning the loss of this precious little baby who was taken from us before we were really ready to let him go.
It is amazing how quickly we all fell in love with this baby. We rooted for him in his struggle to live another day. His short, little, courageous life screams out to all of us never, ever take the day for granted. We are all different for knowing this baby. Which means Casey was a grace from the love of God in our lives. And grace is one of those things from which we can never be separated. Not even by death. Buy you’ve got to choose to believe that.
On this day in which we are mourning the loss of the baby, let us not compound tragedy by also losing our ability to believe. How many time now have we stood in church to say, “I believe in God the Father Almighty . . . the communion of the saints . . . the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting?” Why do we say these words Sunday after Sunday? To prepare us for days like today. For years and year we have gathered into this church to affirm our belief, because we knew the day would come when faith was the only thing that could get us through.
Well, now that day is here. And we will survive the grief, and the questions that do not have answers. We will survive by leaning into our faith. If you don’t have enough yourself, then lean into the faith of the church. But don’t dare try to grieve without believing the heavenly Father has received Casey into his eternal arms, or you will never survive the loss.
Not only does our decision to believe in the grace of God get us through death, it also allows us to give thanks for the three precious weeks we had with Casey. Again, this is a choice, and maybe one of the most heroic choices you can be asked to make. But it’s the only way you’re going to survive. If you choose to resent the loss, your heart will eventually turn dark and you will be unable to love anything in life. But if, in time, you get to the place of choosing to give thanks for the gifts Casey brought into our lives, you will discover that some of his childlike tenderness has been left behind in your own heart.
Give thanks for all the love that poured across his crib from an adoring mother, father, family, and friends. For doctors and nurses who threw their lives into giving Casey another day of life. Give thanks that God has always enjoyed incarnating his love for us in little babies. Give thanks that this eternal love, wrapped in so fragile a package, lives on.
So maybe this is a celebration of life after all. Maybe the thing we most want to say today is not that we are just so angry for losing Casey, but even more, that we are thankful for the life of this precious little boy. Even three short weeks with him was better than a life of never knowing him. Because in Casey William Alley, we received a glimpse of the love of God. And from God’s love we are never separated.
This posting is a chapter in "This Incomplete One: Words Occasioned by the Death of a Young Person," a book edited by Michael D. Bush. You can purchase it on Amazon.
Our text today tells us, “Nothing can separate us from the love of God.” Like all of God’s promises, this one has to be believed to help us. Especially when we are looking at a little coffin.
This is not an easy day. No one will stand up today to talk about all the laughter and great experiences we had with Casey. There is no eulogy describing his long years of devoted commitment to family and service. No celebration of great achievements. That is because we are giving Casey back to God after only three short weeks.
Giving? No, maybe even that is saying too much. Today we are mourning the loss of this precious little baby who was taken from us before we were really ready to let him go.
It is amazing how quickly we all fell in love with this baby. We rooted for him in his struggle to live another day. His short, little, courageous life screams out to all of us never, ever take the day for granted. We are all different for knowing this baby. Which means Casey was a grace from the love of God in our lives. And grace is one of those things from which we can never be separated. Not even by death. Buy you’ve got to choose to believe that.
On this day in which we are mourning the loss of the baby, let us not compound tragedy by also losing our ability to believe. How many time now have we stood in church to say, “I believe in God the Father Almighty . . . the communion of the saints . . . the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting?” Why do we say these words Sunday after Sunday? To prepare us for days like today. For years and year we have gathered into this church to affirm our belief, because we knew the day would come when faith was the only thing that could get us through.
Well, now that day is here. And we will survive the grief, and the questions that do not have answers. We will survive by leaning into our faith. If you don’t have enough yourself, then lean into the faith of the church. But don’t dare try to grieve without believing the heavenly Father has received Casey into his eternal arms, or you will never survive the loss.
Not only does our decision to believe in the grace of God get us through death, it also allows us to give thanks for the three precious weeks we had with Casey. Again, this is a choice, and maybe one of the most heroic choices you can be asked to make. But it’s the only way you’re going to survive. If you choose to resent the loss, your heart will eventually turn dark and you will be unable to love anything in life. But if, in time, you get to the place of choosing to give thanks for the gifts Casey brought into our lives, you will discover that some of his childlike tenderness has been left behind in your own heart.
Give thanks for all the love that poured across his crib from an adoring mother, father, family, and friends. For doctors and nurses who threw their lives into giving Casey another day of life. Give thanks that God has always enjoyed incarnating his love for us in little babies. Give thanks that this eternal love, wrapped in so fragile a package, lives on.
So maybe this is a celebration of life after all. Maybe the thing we most want to say today is not that we are just so angry for losing Casey, but even more, that we are thankful for the life of this precious little boy. Even three short weeks with him was better than a life of never knowing him. Because in Casey William Alley, we received a glimpse of the love of God. And from God’s love we are never separated.
This posting is a chapter in "This Incomplete One: Words Occasioned by the Death of a Young Person," a book edited by Michael D. Bush. You can purchase it on Amazon.